Please Excuse My Writing
by yesibelieveinsherlockholmes
Summary: A series of letters from Sherlock and Molly to each other after The Fall. Based on Olly Murs 'Dear Darlin'.
1. Dear Darlin'

Dearest Sherlock,  
I am writing to you because I miss you. I don't even know how this will reach you, but I'm sure your brother will find a way.

I never thought I'd miss your insults, but I do. There's no one here to keep my ego in check, and I think my self esteem issues are deflating. I'm not sure if this is a problem, or not, but it feels wrong.

Where are you? What are you doing? Do you like it there? I hope you do. You deserve to have something good after what you had to do.

I'm keeping an eye out for everyone, just like you asked. They're all doing as well as they can under the circumstances. John has yet another girlfriend, but I think she might stay. Not just because you're not there, but they just... Fit. Like nothing I've seen before. They're so in love. They're like each others best friends. I'm telling you, Sherlock, Mary Morstan might be it for John. I'll keep you updated.

Lestrade and his wife finally got divorced, and he constantly asks me out on dates. I'm considering saying yes. It might be good to stop pining over a man known to be dead.

Mrs Hudson is lonely. She misses you. We all do. Please know that you are welcome back at any time. You're safe with me. Just so you know.

The morgue isn't as interesting without you around. Very dull. Colder than it seemed. No body parts to hand off. No one to tell me to shut up, when I was completely silent. I never thought I would miss those things. But they make you, so of course I would miss them.

Please write back when you have the time. I want to know that you're safe.

Always and forever,

Molly Hooper

* * *

Dear Molly,  
Mycroft did indeed ensure that I received your letter. I am currently in Los Angeles. It's warmer than I am used to, but very nice. There's a lot more sun here. At the present moment I am at Venice beach. I don't like to swim, but it is quite serene here. Quiet and relaxing. A good place to think.

I have finished the work to be done here, and will soon be making my way to Australia. Namely the capital city. Most people think that the capital of Australia is Sydney, but it is in fact Canberra, which is smaller, but has many attractions. For one reason or another, Moriarty had a correspondent there, and he is the next biggest threat.

I must admit to you that I was happy to receive your letter. It is nice to know that some one out there was thinking of me. So thank you. Those are two words I don't use very often, so please do not get used to it.

It's nice to speak to someone who knows my real identity, who calls me by my real name. I have always loathed my name, but I think I am becoming more fond of it now.

I wish I was there. I hate to hear that you're lonely, that you're all lonely. I didn't realise the impact you all had on my life, and the impact I had on all of yours. I am happy to receive word of John's well being, especially hearing that he has someone who makes him happy. He deserves it. He deserves her. As for the date with Lestrade, I suppose you could give that a go, but I think you would be an ill suited pair.

I have to stop writing now, but please understand that I miss you and everyone else immensely. I will return as soon as I can.

I eagerly await your reply,

Sherlock Holmes


	2. Lost Without You

Dearest Sherlock,  
I am glad to hear that you're content for now, and you can think.

You were right. Of course you were right. The date with Greg was terrible. We don't have a thing in common, other than the association of our jobs. Mary has moved into 221b with John, now. We had dinner the other night.

I wish I had someone I was that close with. They seem so happy. I want to be like that. I think everyone deserves to be happy, don't you? Well, most people anyway.

I miss you, so much. If you only knew how much I miss you. Please come back soon. Even just to visit. No. Sorry. That's a stupid idea. You keep going. Do what you need to do.

I find that I'm lonely, although I am only lacking you. I didn't even see you that often. But I am. Lonely, that is. God, I'm even awkward on paper. At least I'm consistent. But really. Even in a crowd, the least lonely place you can be, I find myself looking for someone.

I suppose you'll find that particular statement stupid, but I am trying to write you the truth.

I have tea more and more times with Mrs Hudson. She's a very sweet woman. She misses you, Sherlock. As much as I do, perhaps more if it's even possible. You impacted on so many people's lives, and they all feel your absence.

I do hope this reaches you. I hope that you have as good a time as you can in Canberra, and you find the man you're looking for quickly.

I love you. I miss you. I'm thinking of you. Always.

Please write back as soon as you can.

Forever and always,

Molly Hooper.

* * *

Dear Molly,  
I am always right. I am now in Canberra, and the climate is a lot like London's. it's winter now, and rather cold. Isn't it good that we were able to salvage my coat?

I miss you too. More than I anticipated. I miss the coffee, and your terrible jokes and the morgue and your horrible attempts at flirting. You count, Molly Hooper. Don't ever forget that you count.

Your letters make me laugh. Especially in your last, you comment about 'At least I'm consistent.' I haven't laughed like that in a while. I forgot what it felt like.

I have had no luck as of yet in finding him. Unfortunately I cannot mention his name. It occurs to me that it also may no be wise to use our real names in these. We'll figure something out.

I wish I could help you with your loneliness, but the truth is, I feel the same. I miss you all, and I don't think anyone could ever replace any of you. Not one person. You're all much too unique for there to be anyone to take your places.

Please continue to keep an eye on our friends. Mycroft keeps me updated, but it's nicer to hear it from someone who really knows them. Because you can read them. Their emotions. You see them, like you saw me that night before the fall.

You truly astounded me when you did that, Molly. You saw right through me, like I usually see through everyone else. You're and anomaly, something entirely new to me, and I plan to investigate.

Writing to you helps me. Because I know that you're in England, fading this and thinking of me, and that helps. I hope that it helps you to hear from me. The truth is, I think of you more often than I'd care to admit, and I miss you, just as much as you seem to miss me.

The realisation has just dawned on me that the words 'I miss you' are a rather odd turn of phrase, and is among one of the most used phrases in the span of our short correspondence.

But I do. I miss you. You. Someone who had seemed so insignificant. Just so that you're aware, you are anything but insignificant. You count. You alway have, and I think you always will.

I might just accept your kind offer, and drop in in the near future. It's not a stupid idea. I find the thought of being close to you all strangely comforting.

I look forward to future letters,

Sherlock Holmes.


	3. I Need You, Now

Dearest Sherlock,  
I suppose you're right. Using our real names is not the safest thing to do as we are sending these letters through a mail service, and you never know if they open your letters. I know why they do it, but I feel like it's should be against some law. Isn't it a bit of invasion of personal privacy? In any case, I agree with you. What do you propose we call each other?

It is unfortunate that you have not yet found the man you're looking for. I really hope you find him soon. I was unaware of how cold it could get in Australia, but I did my research, and I didn't expect the results. Does it really get into negative figures down there? I was surprised, but that seems to be the case. With what Ive read I have to agree with you. The fact that we were able to save your coat is indeed worth it, now. Getting the blood out of it was hell.

The way you speak about me and to me is much more pleasant in these letters than in real life. But you forget. I am ordinary. I am a mousy, little pathologist at Bart's, but you... you are the real anomaly. You are a great man, Sherlock. And if you don't wish me to forget that I count, then I will ask you to do the same with that particular statement. Because its something that you need to remember. You are a great man. Maybe even a good one.

I would say that I'm glad that you feel the same way; with the loneliness and all, but I'm not. I hate feeling this way, and I'm almost certain you do too. I miss your totally clueless answers to my equally clueless attempts at flirting. I miss the bloody, unorthodox experiments. I miss you. I need you. Please come back, Sherlock.

It's all falling apart. Greg's been suspended and I've been fired. They found security footage of me aiding you in some experiments that apparently weren't... Oh, what was the word they used? Tasteful... Appropriate... Legal. Legal, I think was the word. So, I'm fired. Looking for a new job. Otherwise I'll have to move out. I probably won't even be able to keep Toby. Please come home, Sherlock. Everything is falling to shit, and I need you.

I can't write anymore. I'm sorry. I would, but I can't.

Forever and always,

Molly Hooper.

* * *

Dear Molly,  
I am sorry. It was never my intention to get you in any trouble at all, let alone fired. I will do my best to right the situation, with my brothers help. I'm sure he could help you regain your job, or help you to stay in your flat while you look for a new one, should you not wish to return.

I don't know what we should sign our names as or refer to each other as, but for now I propose we just use initials, me signing as 'S' and you as 'M'.

I'm coming home to visit soon. I've finished in Australia, and I'm just going to say that no one will be seeing him for a very long time. I do wish I didn't have to kill anyone to do this, but that is in fact what I have to do. Nevertheless, I am coming home. Very soon.

I'll see you very soon, which is why this letter is so short.

I'm coming home,

S.


	4. Not a Chapter (Sorry)

Authors Note

No. I'm sorry. This isn't a chapter. It's been written, so it will be up in the near future. I have to say I was astounded at the reception to this fanfiction and the others I have written. You guys are great. I really enjoy writing this, and I will certainly be keeping on with it. Thank you for reading! Mwah!

Siân.


	5. Burn

He crept into her flat in the middle of the night, and Molly was asleep. It was dark and very late, but it was still hard to get in without being noticed or question, especially while picking the lock. But he had managed it and now he stood in her bedroom.

He noted how relaxed, innocent, almost childlike she looked while sleeping. She made a small noise, a whimper and he stepped towards her almost on instinct. Under his foot the floorboards creaked and she woke at the sound.

"Sherlock?" She whispered, rubbing her eyes.

He nodded in confirmation of what he was fairly sure was a question. She sat up.

"You okay?" She asks, he words slurring together in a half asleep fashion. He smiles and nods again in response.

"And you?"

"Tired."

"I'm not going to keep you from sleeping, Molly." He said.

She gave a sleepy nod and laid back down. Hesitantly, he left her bedroom and retreated to her couch. Soon he drifted to sleep, content for the first time in a year.

* * *

Molly heard him leave the room and curled up on her side, hugging her knees to her chest. She sighed in relief, knowing he was here and safe, and made her best effort to go back to sleep.

* * *

When she woke again in the morning, he was gone. On the upside, he had left a note.

'Dear M,  
I'll be back very shortly. Following a lead. And getting cigarettes. You won't mind if I smoke, will you?  
S.'

He was much sweeter on paper, she thought. She sighed and decided to get on with her day. Proper greetings could wait till after work.

* * *

Four autopsy's later, she arrived home to smoke. And a lot of it. He hadn't even asked her properly if she was alright with it.

She stalked past him on the couch and threw the window wide open.

"What- what the hell?" She coughed at him, the acrid smell of the cigarettes filling her lungs and nose.

He shrugged and took another drag. She shot him a dirty look and went to the bathroom to scrub the scent of smoke and death off her body.

The hot water soothed her and she sang softly to herself.

"Molly!" She heard him call after a few minutes. She cursed under her breath and turned off the water. "Molly!"

"What?" She yelled back. Hearing no reply, she sighed and got out of the shower, wrapping herself in a large towel. She stormed back into the living room to find him still lounging on the couch.

"What is it?" She hissed at him.

He looked up at her after a moment, looking momentarily astounded that she had actually replied to his calls. "I've run out of cigarettes," he held the empty carton up to prove his statement. "Go and get me some more?" Sherlock flashed her a charming smile.

"No." She replied resolutely.

"Please?" He tried.

She rolled her eyes. "No."

"Nicotine patches?"

"Maybe. As long as you only use a maximum of two at a time. It's just plain stupid and life threatening to use anymore than that at a singular time."

He thought for a moment. "Fine."

She forced a smile. "I'll get you some tomorrow."

He smiled back, obviously not grasping the fact that hers wasn't genuine. "Thanks."

* * *

"Do you want anything to eat?"

"No."

* * *

"Molly!"

"What?"

"What is this?"

"It's a cat. My cat. His name is Toby."

"Keep him away. I'm trying to think."

* * *

"Coffee?"

"Black with two, I'll be right here."

* * *

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to think."

"But... I didn't speak..."

* * *

Molly soon came to the conclusion that Sherlock's company was far more enjoyable when he wasn't actually there. He was far nicer in writing. 'Perhaps,' she thought, 'it was harder to express himself out loud. He had more time to process what he would say while writing rather than while speaking.'

* * *

"I'm leaving."

"When? Where?" She asked.

"Tomorrow morning, to St Petersburg in Russia."

She nodded and reached out to take his hand.

"Molly, although my behaviour over the past few days didn't demonstrate it, I need you to know that I care for you immensely, and-"

She pressed a finger to his lips, effectively quieting his stuttered confession. She shook her head and smiled. "Shut up." She squeezed his hand. "I love you too, idiot."

He smiled.

* * *

They woke up in each others arms, having fallen asleep on the couch while watching telly.

"Anything to eat?" She asked, knowing the answer was likely to be no.

As she suspected, he shook his head, and gathered his thing from around her flat. As he reached the door, he looked back at her.

"I'll still send letters." She said.

"I don't doubt it."

Molly kissed his cheek. "Stay safe. I love you."

He kissed her gently, lips brushing hers momentarily, almost like a test. He pulled away as a black town car pulled up outside. He leant in and kissed her again. She closed her eyes. "I love you too."

And then he was gone.

**A/N: Phew, that was a bit of time in the making. So much editing and rewriting. So many line breaks! I don't know if you've noticed but, I write a very OOC Sherlock. I wanted to explain that, but also have a more in-character Sherlock in this chapter. I think I succeeded. Your thoughts? I hope you enjoyed. Until the next time, **

**Siân.**


	6. To Sir, With Love

Dearest S,  
I know it's only been two days since you left, but your absence is felt deeply.

I bring news to you. Very good news. John told me today that he's planning on proposing to Mary! I hope you're as happy for them as I am.

Also, Greg's ex-wife is still wreaking havoc. Apparently he's going to be a father, but he's expecting DNA test results any day now. I think he was right to ask for proof, given the impression you gave of her to me.

Mrs Hudson is a little better. She saw you as a son, you know? And she hasn't moved anything in your flat. Nothing's changed. I have your violin at my place, in case you need it, should you visit again.

You're welcome to visit again, if you want to.

I still miss you. A lot. I have to go to work now. Speaking of which, Royal Hope has much better facilities, and I enjoy working there. The people are all so nice, it makes up for the travel time. You'd love the lab. The lens' in the microscopes are so clear.

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your M.

* * *

My Dear M,  
I'm miss you too. Quite a bit, actually.

That is indeed good news. I hope I'm able to attend the wedding. Mary seems good for John. What do you think of her?

I agree with you. Lestrade was right to ask for a DNA test. I doubt it is his child, but if it is, tell him congratulations on my behalf (though of course don't tell him that.)

I know that she saw me as a son, and I have to admit to you that she was more of a mother than my own biological one was. I hope to visit again as soon as is possible. Thank you for getting my violin, it is much appreciated.

I'm glad that I am welcome back, my behaviour will be better next time.

I always knew that Royal Hope was a good hospital. They have some good funding, so they're able to afford good things. I'm glad you're enjoying your time there. I might take a look, when I'm 'alive' again.

I love you too,

Your S.

* * *

None of these characters are mine, and if they are no one's told me.

I hope you enjoyed! Any thoughts or suggestions are welcome. I love reviews, so don't hesitate if there's something you want to say.

Until the next time!

Siân


	7. All I Ask of You

Dearest S,  
Do you know how big London is? (That was rhetorical) I discovered just how large it was the other day when your brother kidnapped me and interrogated me while driving around the city. It's quite beautiful though.

Mary is an interesting character. She's a kindergarten teacher and she loves her students. She talks about them at any time she can. She used to be a nurse, a military nurse, so she can relate to John on that front. She's quite smart, I think you'd approve of her, just for her smarts. She seems to have memorised the entire city, like you have. To be onset she's wonderful, and very supportive of John.

She said yes when John proposed, and she called me straight away. She practically screamed down the phone. But really, it doesn't quite matter what I think of her. She loves John and John loves her, and they're happy together. I don't get to decide or approve her, do I? (For the record, I think John has made an excellent choice.)

Lestrade is indeed going to be a father, and despite this news being a little ill timed, he is quite excited. I passed on your sentiment; as my own, of course, and he told me thank you. (I've passed that on, because I thought you might like to hear that he appreciates it.)

I've just remembered something that Mycroft said. Well, he asked it, and I didn't know how to answer his question. He asked what I would define our relationship as. And I just don't know. In addition he asked what I was to you, phrased in a way that caused me to slap him, but don't worry he'll recover. But in all seriousness, what am I to you? How would you describe our relationship? What are we?

I will leave you with this.

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your M.

* * *

My Dear M,  
The git is always doing that to those who choose to associate with me. I'm glad to hear that you hit him, I hope that your hand is okay.

I'm not sure just how to define our relationship. Such immature phrases, like 'girlfriend' or 'boyfriend' do not fit our relationship at all. I will let you know in this letter, should I find an alternate phrase.

Mary does sound like a good woman, and very supportive of John, which is, I suppose, exactly what he needs after what I did to him. I hope that I can attend the wedding.

At the same time as I pity Lestrade I am very happy for him. Just after they got divorced, too. How on earth are they making that work? I do appreciate your feedback, and would like to thank you again for all that you've done for me.

I'm done in Russia, and I'll soon be in Greece. My family used to go there for holidays and it was always very nice. Unfortunately, that may make it harder to go undetected there.

I have just come to my conclusion on your questions. You are my pathologist. Please don't take that the wrong way. What I mean is that you are MY pathologist. I cannot find another way to describe our relationship, saying what I have already. You are my pathologist, and equally, I am your detective.

And I love you,

Your Detective.

* * *

A/N: I told you it'd be up soon! This chapter has been a long time coming, but I'll make sure I have a few chapters lined up before I next update. Read and review? Until next time lovelies! Siân


	8. Travelin' Soldier

My Dearest Detective,  
I like this, the analogy of our relationship. It's far more interesting than 'S'. Greece does sound nice. It might be warmer than here. It is getting cold here, very cold. Which is alright. I like the cold. It makes the morgue seem warmer.

I dislocated my knee. In a stupid way too. I fell up the tiled stairs and cracked my patella on the edge. Such a stupid way to injure ones self. John and Mary have been awfully helpful, bringing over dinners and helping to tidy up my flat. Mike gave me a week off, but I have wear a stupid leg brace for up to eight weeks. It is rather a hindrance, annoying and goddamn painful. It's irritating trying to remember when to take the pain medication.

Have you ever broken or dislocated a bone? If so, how and when? I just want to know a bit more about you. Tell me about your childhood and things like that? I don't know. I'm just a little bored with my leg and all.

How are you? Are you in Greece? Is it nice there? I do hope it is, and it's probably warmer than here anyhow. Closer to the equator and all that. Do you know who it is that you're looking for? I hope you know who they are, and where they are. That would be one step closer to you coming home, and maybe even getting back before the wedding.

They're so close, you know? They're made for each other, Mary and John. And Lestrade and his ex wife are getting along as well as they can. He says the first scan is sometime in the next week. Ae you opposed to having children? I'm not asking for any. I just want to know where you stand on that.

I must leave this here, because otherwise I'll run out of room and this is my last piece of paper.

I love you,

Always and forever,

Your Pathologist

* * *

My Dear Pathologist,  
It saddens me to hear about your leg. I'm sure that it is irritating and painful and I wish I was there to help you. However, I have located the man I am looking for, and am very close to finishing my time here in Greece.

It's very pleasant here, warm enough to swim, though I have already mentioned that I dislike swimming. I do hope to be back for the wedding, even better if it's before that. If I am as efficient as I've been being, then I should be back by the end of the year. I do hope I am.

I agree that this analogy does work better, and is certainly more interesting. It has more meaning to it too, so it is more endearing in a manner.

I am glad that Lestrade is excited about their child. To answer your question, I'm not sure. I've never really considered it. I didn't really think it would be something that I could see in my future, but I don't think I would be opposed to children.

I suppose I will now answer your other questions. I've broken several bones. The first time I did it, I fell out of a tree in the backyard, and broke my wrist. I was five. The last time I broke a bone was three or four years ago. I broke three ribs, my right foot and had a green stick fracture in my arm after getting into a street fight. It goes without saying that I lost. I don't know if you remember, but you helped me out that time. Helped change my dressings and things.

My childhood is not something that I freely talk about. I will discuss it with you at one time or another, but I don't thing that I could write it down in words. To put it simply, it was horrible. Certainly not any way any child should grow up. I suppose that maybe it's part of the reason I'm like this. So distant from people. Like I said, I will talk to you about it in person.

I hope to visit again sometime soon. Perhaps I could help you out.

I hope that your leg doesn't bother you too much when you go back to work. I look forward to your next letter.

I love you too,

Your Detective.

* * *

A/N: Hello again dears! I hope you're all well. Have another chapter. I've been trying at a more in character Sherlock, but to tell you the absolute truth, this was literally written right before I posted it. But hey, seven hundred and ninety-ish words give or take is good! I've been busy with school and stuff. Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Please read and review. Mwah! Siân.


	9. I Believe in Yesterday

To My Dearest Detective,  
Your words intrigue me. I do wish to know about your child hood but at the same time, from what you've said, I'm not so sure if that would be a good idea. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be you. So smart and wonderful and organised, but I think that it might be a little bit overwhelming being you. After all that you've been through. Lestrade told me a bit about your drug history. Mind you, he was considerably drunk at the time.

My leg isn't bothering me so much now. I need less and less medication each day, and it's easier to walk now, which is a blessing. It does mean, though that I don't get to opt out of as many things, such as the hospital staffs Halloween party. It's not something that I'm looking forward to particularly.

I suppose that it would only be air to answer the questions I had you answer. Before now I have only broken one one bone, and had never dislocated one. Like you, I broke my wrist falling out of a tree when I was ten. I do remember that. I was horrified when it happened. But I could help in only that way, so I did. I would do it again.

To be perfectly honest with you, I wouldn't mind children at some point in the future. I've thought about it a bit, though usually only when mum brings the subject up. According to her in our last phone call "Your brother is so far ahead of you. With his successful job, and his lovely wife and their kids." I think she's trying to guilt trip me into flinging myself into motherhood. I don't think that that will be happening for a while.

My childhood was fairly normal. Camping, beach trips, regular arguments with my mum. I'm just going to tell you now that I liked my dad a little more than her. I'm sure that you couldn't tell. (That was sarcasm, in case you missed it.) my brother and I used to be a lot closer. I do enjoy visiting him though. His sons are just adorable.

Um, I suppose I'll leave you with a few questions. Why do you dislike swimming so much? What are you most afraid of? Tea or coffee, and why? When did you create your mind palace? I think that's about it.

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your Pathologist.

* * *

My Dear Pathologist,  
Lestrade talks an awful lot when he's drunk. I have been present for this on many occasions, and all of these occasions ended with him crying about his ex wife. He is extremely truthful when he's drunk. I've never heard him more honest. Which is a little bit unfortunate, but not a big shock. It's the same with most of the Scotland Yard team.

I'm glad to hear about your leg. It is sad that you're being made to go to this event, but surely you will be able to find some joy in the situation. You're a very optimistic person, I've come to realise. It's endearing. I have thought about it a bit, and I don't think that I would mind children either, just in a bit of time. I don't want to rush anything.

Your mother doesn't sound particularly kind, which is perhaps where your kindness stems from. Being kind enough for the both of you I suppose. You brother is a lawyer right? A very respectable profession. Does he specialise in anything? I'm glad to hear that you enjoy visiting him. From what you have told me about him, he seems very pleasant.

Now I guess I will answer your latest questions. Could you answer them as well in your next letter?

I dislike swimming because it feels odd. Being surrounded by something that feels a little like air but is distinctly different. It's a bit of a sensory thing. I am afraid of two things really. Losing the people and things that I love, which I guess has happened, but also losing myself. I did it once, lost myself completely in the drugs. Mycroft had to pull me out of the gutter more than a few times. It's terrifying, losing yourself. Losing the ability to control your actions and when you need things. I never want to experience anything like it again.

Coffee. The addiction started in college. It was very helpful in getting up and to classes on time, and came in useful when I had a mass cramming session in the middle of the night. Besides which I like the taste. Bitter but sweet. Not a taste that is suited to some though.

I created my mind palace by accident when I was seven. I just started to store information and it just sort of grew since then. It's very helpful. Perhaps sometime soon I will tell you how to make your own. I think you would benefit from having one. It comes in handy with things like storing information about autopsies.

Like I said, I would lie you to answer the same questions, only replace the mind palace one with the question: do you play any musical instruments?

I love you too,

Your Detective.

* * *

A/N: Hey look at that! Two updates in two days! To tell you the truth I just spent the last few hours on this and I'm tired and I've got no idea how good it is. Whatever. You judge. Read and review darlings! Love you. Siân.


	10. Pay Phone

My Dearest Detective,  
You're right, Greg really is a truthful drunk. John is less so. They coerced me into a night at the pub. It was a spectacle in changed human behaviours. Luckily Mary was there to stop John from trying to sing karaoke; and badly, might I add. Still, it was fun. The leg is hardly a problem anymore, and I can walk on it without crutches now. I'm happy about that. That goddamn party is coming up though and I've got no idea how I'm going to cope for hours on end on it. I may be optimistic, but not enough to justify this.

My mother isn't the nicest person on the face of the planet, no. She isn't the slightest bit pleased about my chosen profession, but it's not her life, so I don't really care. She says it's 'un-ladylike' to handle cadavers. I don't really give a rats arse what she says, though. Dad sort of evened her out, but since he died, she's been a little bit more pushy. You're right in thinking that my brother is a lawyer, and he specialises in divorce proceedings. He works in other areas too.

I'm most afraid of losing the people I love as well. But I'm also afraid of spiders, a fear that started when my brother put a huge tarantula in my bed and I woke up the next morning with it in my hair. I was also bitten by one when I was a kid. I prefer tea if I'm honest. Though I don't mind coffee, there are just so many more types of tea, which means a variety of flavours. I never get bored of trying new teas. Earl Grey is my favourite.

I do play an instrument, as a matter of fact I play two. I play the piano and the flute. My parents made me have piano lessons when I was younger, and though I hated the lessons, I love the instrument. It's a shame I don't get to have one. I always had a love for the flute, and I played it in school bands for years. I'm very good if I do say so myself. I do, though, have a flute, and I practice often. Maybe I'll play for you when we next see each other. That is, if you want me to.

I'm actually not a huge fan of swimming either. It's mostly because when I go swimming I get burnt. I get sunburnt easily. Very easily. I once got a sunburn in winter, god knows how. It's not a wonder I prefer the cold morgue lights. But also, since watching Jaws I never had the guts to go back in the water. I'm still terrified of sharks. In indoor pools, I'm fine though.

Are you still in Greece? If not, where are you? How are you in general? Will I be seeing you anytime soon? Tell me about your favourite memory, and why it's your favourite memory.

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your Pathologist.

* * *

My dear Pathologist,  
I really am glad to hear about your leg, and I am very happy that you can now walk on it without the use of crutches. Your experience at the pub really is something that you need to tell me more about, in more detail the next time we see each other. John trying to sing karaoke is something I very much need to hear about. I'm sure you can find some happiness in that party. Somehow.

It really is a shame that your mother doesn't approve of your profession. If she did I'm sure she would be quite proud. You're published, for gods sake. And to be honest, I personally don't find it the least bit off putting that you handle bodies. Don't mind her. I'm not fond of spiders either, but I can see the reasoning behind your fear. It must have been quite traumatic for you with both experiences. I will try to remember that you like Earl Grey. It may come in handy one day to have that knowledge to draw on.

I also play the piano a bit. But as you have probably realise, I prefer violin. I would like to hear you play at some point. I never had the patience or the mind to take up flute, but I have always been fond of the sound. I can imagine that you would burn easily, you are very pale. It's not a bad thing, just something that I had noticed. I have never seen Jaws. It's seemed a bit frivolous to watch a movie that others seemed to be terrified of watching. I much prefer crime shows. I find it fun to deduce the killer before anyone else does. It pissed John off when I did it. Which made it all the more entertaining.

I have finished in Greece, and I can't tell you where I'm going next. Just know that you might be seeing me sooner that you expected. I'm close to home. In general, I'm well. Happy as one can be when tracking down a master criminals henchmen. I have already answered the next question, but I'll say it again. You'll see me sooner that you would think.

My favourite memory. That's a difficult one. I have many good memories. Most of them are with John, him being my best friend and all. One of my favourite memories is with you, one of the first times I worked with you. I don't think I realised back then how much you would mean to me in the future. You're the only thing really keeping me clinging to reality right now. But in this particular memory, I think you had finished an autopsy, and you proved me wrong about something. You didn't gloat, but I think I realised then how much I enjoyed working with you. You were the best pathologist at Bart's.

I just remembered that you aren't at Bart's any longer. That means that you're going to this party at Royal Hope then. My favourite memory though, I think I was five or six. My mother had someone build a great treehouse in a tree in the backyard. It was a large sturdy thing, shaped vaguely like a pirate ship. I enjoyed playing in it. My father was not fond of it though. It was ripped down when I was sixteen. It was sad. I don't think I've told you about my father. He wasn't a very nice man in the least. I'm glad that I don't have to deal with him any more. I may tell you more about him sooner or later.

I love you,

Your Detective.

* * *

A/N: Woo! Longest chapter so far! I'm actually very proud of this one. It took a long while. In the time that I've spent off, my sister has started reading AND writing fanfiction. She's doing better than I am. It's a little sad. She writes Mortal Instruments stuff. Her penname in Velvet Curtains, if you wish to read some of her fanfictions. It's all Clace stuff, just so you know. That's all from the best sister ever. She'd better be bloody grateful to me for writing this. Special thanks to Anatomydoc, Renaissancebooklover108, Rocking the Redhead, and SammyKatz for their support. Anyways, read and review! I love reviews. Constructive criticism is good, I would love to hear anything you have to offer me. I love you all, darlings! Until next time, Siân.


	11. I Remember

_To my dearest Detective,_

_You are adorable when you try to be mysterious. I look forward to seeing you when I see you. I will be looking out for you. I'm not sure I can make any good out of this party, but I do, in fact need to go. I will try to have fun. I'll tell you all about it-_

Molly stopped writing there and sighed. She may as well leave and finish writing when she got back. Though she wouldn't mind being late, she would get some grief from the other hospital staff. 'Come in costume!' They had all said. She had rolled her eyes at the time, but it had dawned on her that they were serious. So here she was, feeling ridiculous as she sat in her bedroom, dressed as Emily from Tim Burton's 'The Corpse Bride'.

She sighed again and stood. She would write another letter when she got home from the party.

* * *

Molly arrived on the Hospitals roof, to find all the others in fancy dress too. She had been worried that she would be the only one,that they were tricking her for a good laugh.

"Molly!" Exclaimed Damon, the lab tech. "You made it."

She smiled tightly. Damon was always a little handsy. "Yes, hello." She replied.

"And what are you dressed as Miss Hooper? Some sort of Zombie?"

"No, umm, a character from my favourite Halloween movie. She, erm, she's from The Corpse Bride." Molly stuttered.

Damon laughed, albeit a little too loudly for a sober man. Molly warded off a grimace and shuffled over towards the drinks table. She would definitely need a good drink to survive this party.

* * *

Molly was tipsy, and still not having a great time. The music was too loud, the people were too loud. And it didn't seem like anyone wanted her there. She sighed, and not for the last time that night, and sunk lower in her chair.

"Molly!" She heard the loud, familiar shout, and grimaced. She hoped if she stayed still long enough, he would forget she was there.

"Molly! Molly! Molly!" His voice was now in a sing-song tone.

"Anderson." She answered sweetly. Maybe he'd respond better if she answered him.

"How've you been getting along since you left Bart's? You landed a good job. I wonder how much you had to whore around to get it."

Molly frowned. "For your information I did not; as you so crudely put it, 'whore around'. I got this job on actual talent. Which you obviously lack." Normally she wouldn't have taken a leaf out of Sherlock's insult book, but she was furious at the assumption the man had made.

"Yeah right. You're smart, I'll give you that, but to get a job as head of the pathology department says more than that, and no offence, but you're not nearly pretty enough to have scored it on that, darling."

That hit her ego hard. She inhaled loudly. "Get away from me Anderson. Get away now. Take a dive off the edge of the building for all I care." When he didn't move, she started to stride away. Only now did she realise that all eyes were on her.

She felt a hand on her wrist, and turned around to find Anderson again. So she punched him. Hard. Right on his big, fat, ugly nose. With that she stalked away to a dark corner of the roof. She just wanted to go. But as part of the group who had planned it, she couldn't until it was all cleaned up. She let out a sob. More than anything, she wanted Sherlock.

"You have a great right hook." Came a sudden, unexpected, but nonetheless familiar voice.

Her head whipped up and there he was. "Sherlock!" She exclaimed quietly, and threw her arms around him.

"Hello, Molly. Did you miss me?" He asked happily, if a little teasingly.

"Of course I did you arse." She pulled back and swatted his chest lightly. Only now did she see what he was wearing. "What on earth are you supposed to be?"

"Frankenstein. Well, Frankenstein's Monster. You see, people often make the mistake of-"

She cut him off there, her lips covering his effectively. "I know," she said when they broke apart. "I have read Frankenstein."

"Yes, well..." Sherlock straightened the coat covering his arms, slightly flustered. Molly giggled at the light blush covering his cheeks.

"You are just a little bit adorable." She said with a smile.

They stood, simply grinning at each other. Sherlock's ears seemed to prick up after a while. "May I have this dance?" He asked, bowing and offering his hand like the gentleman he was.

Molly giggled and blushed brightly, she was sure. "Of course." She took his hand, and curtsied in return.

He pulled her in, close to his chest and put an arm around her waist. They stepped in time, with perfect rhythm, only slowing when a Molly's limp presented itself. They weren't really dancing to any music, well, at least not in time with any of the music that was playing on the rooftop.

"Is it done? Are you back for good?" She asked in a whisper, desperate for the word yes to pass his perfect lips.

"No." He replied. "Not yet. But soon, very soon."

Molly nodded solemnly. She knew that this was necessary, but she was scared that there might come a day when there won't be a letter in response to hers. She was scared that when he left, she wouldn't see him again. Just thinking about it made her eyes well up with tears. His hand brushed against her cheek and wiped away the unshed tears. "I'm sorry." She whispered gesturing to her face in general. "I just... I don't want to lose you."

"I know and I apologise as well." He said, brushing his hand against her cheek again. "I swear I will try to come back. I promise."

Molly nodded and threw her arms around her shoulders, leaning up to kiss him yet again. His lips moved against hers with precision, leaving what felt like fire in their wake. His arms. Wrapped themselves tightly around her waist, and her hands ventured into his curls. They finally broke away, breathless.

"Did I tell you before, that you look astounding tonight?" He asked, heart pounding inside his chest. She smirked and giggled a little bit.

"No, I don't think you mentioned that."

"Well, I must have forgotten to say that. Because you most certainly do." He said.

"I love you." Molly said.

"As I love you, Molly." He replied, leaning forward to steal another kiss.

* * *

The next day, Molly kissed him goodbye and promised to write to him soon. She waved at him through the window as he hoped into the black town car sent by Mycroft. Soon he would be somewhere in the Middle East. Molly smiled. Maybe soon he would come home, and stay for good.

* * *

A/N: I must thank SammyKatz for the idea for this chapter. They mentioned it in one of their reviews and I just had to use it. It was an intriguing concept. And hey, look! Another chapter with over a thousand words! I hope you guys are happy with this. Internet hugs in exchange for reviews? Any one? Until next time, my darlings. Siân.


	12. I Can't Do It Alone

Hello my darling pathologist,  
I know you have not written to me yet, but I felt the need to change it up a little bit. It was very pleasant to see you again, and what I said to you on the roof, I meant. You looked lovely. In a morbid, costumed way. I do prefer it when you have your hair down like you did. I realised that a few Christmases ago. Your hair frames your face beautifully, although I was much too much of a coward to have said that when I thought it. Besides which I had said some very hurtful things the night before.

Mycroft does wish that we would stop writing, he thinks it's a security risk. But I'm not sure. I wouldn't feel as at ease as I do when I know you have written to me. It's nice to know that you are not hurt. Or in the case of your knee that you are hurt but are fine. I will soon be in Scotland, tracking down a higher member of Moriarty's web. I cannot mention his name, but I can tell you that after I have him, I think I can come home. I really do hope so.

Stay safe. Please. He is very near to you so please look out. For me. I couldn't imagine losing you. Ever. It's heart wrenching to even think about. I honestly don't think I could live without you. You have given me the only comfort I have recieved in the last two years and I couldn't bare to return without you there. So just look out, okay?

Right. Good. How is work? Any interesting bodies or murders I should know about? How are you? Are you recovered from your fall yet? And how is your cat? Toby, wasn't it? I would really appreciate an update on everyone in the next letter if you wouldn't mind.

I would like to thank you for providing me with comfort and even a few laughs over the last year, and that is more than I could have asked of you. Not only that but you helped me understand all the fuss about love. I understand why John was so obsessed with finding 'the one' for him, and I'm glad he has, but even more so that I have. I look forward to spending more time together in future. Much more.

But for now I can only leave you with questions and the promise of another letter soon. Where did you attend university? Why did you decide that you wanted to study pathology? What did you think of me when we first met? Did you ever smoke? That is something I am unclear about. I was never able to deduce it. A little sad really. Also, how is wedding planning with Mary going?

All my love to you,

Always,

Your Detective.

My dearest Detective,  
You have indeed changed it up a bit. I have to say that you looked rather dashing yourself, although that is how I think you look all the time. Thank you for your lovely comments on my hair. I always have liked it. It's rather long now as you saw a week ago. I was thinking about cutting it shorter, in sort of a bob-y-thing. I'm not quite sure. What are your thoughts? I think it'd suit me, personally, but I would really appreciate your opinion.

Work is good at the moment. I'm making a few friends, even after that spectacle at the party. There have been a few murders, but Lestrade has handled them aptly. Speaking of Lestrade, he's only two months away from becoming a proper father. I'd say he's adapted well, and is handling it better than I expected. They've come to an agreement, and it seems that they will be having a son. He seems very happy about it all. I'm happy for him.

John and Mary seem to get happier everyday with their wedding approaching. Mary has gone mad with planning, and has asked me to be her Maid of Honour. She says it was because I was so supportive of John, but we really have become very close friends.

My leg is much better, I'm walking without the stupid brace now. You're right, my cat is named Toby, and he's as well as always, if a little fat. But he always was. I am well, thank you. How about you?

I attended the University of Bristol. Pathology and Microbiology. After my dad died I had the overwhelming need to help others understand how their loved ones died. I was never told how my father died but I assume it was a tumour or lung cancer. He was a chain smoker. I never smoked, but I think it was the repulsion at my fathers habit that drove that particular veto. I promised myself I wouldn't ever smoke, however much I wanted to, and peers wanted me to.

Why did you start smoking? And if you don't mind me asking, why did you get into drugs? I know that that is probably a sensitive subject for you. I'm just curious. Have you finished in the Middle East? Is that why you'll be in Scotland soon? I promise I'll look out for myself. I couldn't bare to lose you either.

In relation to your question, asking what I thought of you the first time we met, I thought you were a little moody. But also handsome. I was right about both if you don't mind me saying. If I can be honest I thought you were the living stereotype of 'Tall, Dark and Handsome'. But really, you were smart and deduced me within seconds. I stood no chance against your charm.

I love you, stay safe,

Forever and always,

Your Pathologist.

A/N: Hello again! It's been a little while hasn't it? Well I hope this chapter has been worth that short wait. Read and review, my darlings?


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